Scribbled in Blood
by lick.my.ink
Summary: Mort Rainey attempts to get some help for himself months after the 'Shooter Incident' only now Shooter's opinions are starting to overshadow his own. Find out what happens to a young nurse in a psychiatric Hospital when she gets a neurotic author?
1. Unshocking therapy

Ok folks here's the run down:  
  
(Any thing in parenthesis is Mort's normal conscious or thoughts)  
  
// Anything between these nifty slashes is Shooter's two cents in Mort's head//  
  
Got it? Spiffy.  
  
*****************  
  
New Brunswick Psychiatric Hospital. 4:26 p.m  
  
Shifting in his chair, Dr. Reid made an awkward attempt at a foreward gesture but leaned in again for the second time this session, his voice impatiently barking his new patient's name. "Morton!"  
  
The thirty something author perked up, giving the doctor a 100-watt smile decked out in braces. Morton Rainey wore a ghastly brown sweater vest over a vertical stripped faded shirt, equally as horrid corduroy black slacks and some scuffed doc martins.  
  
Surveying all this, the doctor scribbled something down on his yellow legal pad about a 'Mr. Rainey looking like your normal run of the mill crazy'. But, hell Mort is a writer after all. Scratching out his previous comment he simply wrote 'Weird bastard' and smiled largely at his diagnoses.  
  
Noticing Morton's gaze drifting again, Dr. Reid loudly slammed his pad on the desk and clasped his large hands together. "Mr. Rainey, may I remind you that you are here of your own will and being so I would expect you to pay some kind of attention during this evaluation."  
  
"I apologize." Mort replied, running his tongue over his front teeth. "I was just admiring the view, Dr.Reid." His shifty eyes looked right past Dr. Reid's shoulder once again.  
  
"I don't have a window Mr.Ra-"He did a double take behind him and spotted the picture of his family located right in Morton's plane of view. It depicted his wife, his two teenage daughters, and his three older sons, all of them playing out in the snow. Their trademark family cheeks rosy from the cold, they all beheld great big smiles.  
  
"Pictures. Are just like windows." This comment catching his attention, the head of the Reid family swiveled his chair around to face Morton again who continued. "They can tell just as many stories, hold just as much emotion and activity."  
  
"Picture's, like that one, can't move. It's a still life, captured in one frame. Morton, did you see my family moving in that picture?" Dr. Reid reached over to his patient's evaluation form to take a note of Mort's comment, though Mr. Rainey slapped his hand on it first.  
  
"No need to write that down Chris. I didn't see them move. I just.. felt it. I guess" He leaned back. "I'm an author, it's an occupational hazard to over describe things." Mort cast his gaze down at his hands as he waited for the doctor's analysis of his play on words.  
  
"I see. Call me Dr. Reid. I prefer my Christian name when in personal situations, not consultations such as this. Understand?" The doctor exhaled deeply and shifted in his chair.  
  
Mort nodded and ran a hand through his tame brown-blonde streaked hair.  
  
"Anyway, Mort, I read over your form and you said your wife divorced you and left with her boyfriend, putting you under a lot of grief. Causing a lapse into what you claim is a manic episode. It didn't take us long to find out that they didn't skip town to bask in the sun of some beach in Mexico together, contrary to your belief, they are in fact missing and have been for several months. Presumed dead, Morton. Now how does that realization make you feel?"  
  
".....I..never." Mort muttered, an unsettling cloud of confusion and doubt filling his head.  
  
// Don't let them see, boy. Don't let that quack see your weakness.//  
  
John Shooter's southern drawl spoke louder then any other entity in Morton's mind. He suddenly made a small jerk in his chair and sat up straight, trying to hold together. For some inexplicable reason, Mort was beginning to feel very uncomfortable.  
  
(Amy and Ted dead? There's a crazed idea.)  
  
// Don't sound so shocked. Like you would have honestly given a rat's ass if Amy and that jackass Ted was belly up in a ditch right now.//  
  
( Enough! Not now, Shooter. Christ, not now.)  
  
"I'm sorry, really." Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mort was stumbling over syllables but managed to choke out. "I can't do this now."  
  
Shakily standing and snatching his coat, Mort gave Dr. Reid a half assed smile.  
  
"Mr. Rainey I want to meet with you again. There is something we need to discuss. Expect a call soon. Good-"Before he could finish his farewell, Mort jetted out the door and escaped into the silence of the hallways.  
  
Nothing but Mort's chair was still twirling in his absence.  
  
There was a single knock at the side door to Dr.Reid's office, and then it opened widely. The voice of Dr. Reid's youngest daughter of twenty-three and resident nurse, chimed in with the rapid firing of names.  
  
"Penelope." Dr. Reid said simply, walking over to her and placing his large hands under her jaw to quiet her. He took a moment to admire his daughter's face, round, the color of milk, and her blue eyes a complete contrast to the rest of her features.  
  
She wasn't the prettiest girl in the whole world as he had often told her as a child, but rather a lively soul that made her looks take a backseat to her overpowering spirit.  
  
"Penny." He said more commanding this time and dropped his hands to his side.  
  
"What? I thought you would be happy to see me somewhere else besides us passing in the wards?" She replied, bounding over to the twirling chair and stopping it abruptly.  
  
This action snapped Dr. Reid from any more lingering thoughts of Mr. Rainey.  
  
"I was in a session. Have you any idea how unprofessional that would have made me look if my daughter and favorite candy-striper just barged in here?" Crossing his arms over his chest, he tried to give her that intimidating 'dad stare down' he always gave her when trying to reprimand her.  
  
"Candy-striper?!" Her mouth formed a complete O in disbelief at his choice of words. Tossing a few brunette curls over her shoulder, she sauntered over to him and laughed.  
  
"I prefer pharmaceutical engineer, and no way in hell does the death stare work anymore."  
  
Her angelic laughing filled the silence of the room, yet her father felt a pang of hurt in his heart, still nostalgic from the days when he was in charge of his daughter.  
  
Now he felt more like a decorative lamp in her life then the main fixture.  
  
"Hey, how did this new evaluation go?" Picking up Mort's form, Penny sat down behind the large desk and scanned over it without asking any sort of permission. Being direct kin to the head of the psychiatric board had its perks when it came to crossing the professional bounds."So pops, you think he's crazy enough to be put in my ward?"  
  
*******************  
  
This is just a brief intro to Mort's current situation only months after the "Shooter Incident", including some other key characters and motives and such.  
  
Can someone tell me where Tashmore Lake is ?? Vermont or Maine?? ^.^ Anyhoodles, This is gunna be fun! Expect more creepier Mort soon and more wacky hijinks from Shooter!  
  
And puh-lease. Review for garsh sakes! 


	2. the past has a voice and its creepy

Remember:  
  
(Mort's Thoughts)  
  
//Shooters Thoughts//  
  
***************************  
  
' And she'll have fun fun fun, till her daddy took the T-Bird away'  
  
The annoying jingle of a song crackled from a handset radio on the Morton Rainey's hardwood floor. A large boot kicked at it for clarity and continued on up a metal ladder humming out of tune.  
  
"Hey! Mista Rainey?" Called out the thick New Yorker accent of the repairman, leaning up against the wooden paneling of his wall. The bulky man, clad in a blue jump suit wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and suspiciously eyed the etched in paneling that clearly read 'SHOOTER'.  
  
"Rainey?! Hey, you listenin'?"  
  
Up on the top loft sat Mort at his laptop, his hand propped under his chin and staring dumbfounded at his computer screen. Still amply in the brain storming stage of his next project, he was more then just agitated with this repairman's presence. But it had been three month's since his bout with Shooter and figured it about time to get rid of the awful writing upon his cabin walls.  
  
Cringing at the man's irritating use of vowel sounds, Morton quickly stood up and stalked over to the edge to look down upon his living room. His once cozy den was now scattered with wood shavings and tools, remnants of the renovating or rather removal of Shooter's evidence.  
  
"Wha?" Mort screamed from the balcony over the fuzz of the radio.  
  
"Eh, you realize this new paneling doesn't match this type of wood here?" Responded the man on the ladder, his finger curiously running along the the S of the word Shooter etched in the wall.  
  
"Yes. Thank you. I see that. I wouldn't have paid the ludicrous amount of money your demanding to have it redone if I didn't know that." There was a hiss in Morton's words that caused even the most intimidating of repairmen to flinch into silence.  
  
"Good to see we are on the same page." He muttered through grit teeth.  
  
Mort whipped back around to battle his computer screen once again, when his eye caught wind of a tool carelessly tossed on the steps leading down stairs.  
  
A Screwdriver.  
  
Involuntarily Mort smiled a wicked grin and it wasn't until the banging of a hammer against the wall snapped him out of his trance that he realized what he was doing.  
  
(Shit. Maybe I am crazy. Hell, I know I'm crazy. But screwdrivers?)  
  
He ran a hand through his bed head, down to the rip in the shoulder of his favorite-stripped robe, and back up to his face, which he sheepishly rubbed a few times.  
  
// The screwdriver was your pussy weapon of choice. I prefer the shovel, Mr. Rainey. But that's just me.//  
  
As Mort laid a foot on the top stair, he slipped and swung himself up against the wall in shock, slipping down slowly as he lost his footing.  
  
"Not again." He murmured.  
  
// Lets not forget who instigated this little chat. You asked. I replied. Or rather we both did, seeing as I am you.//  
  
He continued walking along the wall, ignoring the fact that he may be getting some odd stares from the repairman.  
  
"Liar."  
  
// Stealer.//  
  
"Murderer."  
  
Mort voiced his accusations out loud, not bothering to keep them bottled up anymore. Although the cackling of Shooter in his head was now rattling, he jumped down from the steps and shuffled into the kitchen.  
  
// He who points the finger always has three more pointing at him. My daddy told me that. Awfully ironic isn't it?//  
  
Inhaling deeply through his nose and out his mouth, Mort all but threw himself at his kitchen sink and flipped on the faucet. Splashing the cool water in his face, he let his head hang in the basin, allowing the many corn husks piled in there to graze his face.  
  
He had to drown Shooter out.  
  
"I'm going back to that doctor. I'm going to get rid of you, you ..f- fucking hick!"  
  
And that was that. No voices, just the splashing of water against the metallic sink.  
  
Someone tapped on Mort's shoulder and instinctively he grabbed an ear of corn from the counter and turned around quickly, pointing the corn fiercely at the person.  
  
The repairman held up his hands and choked back a laugh. "Uh. Morty, your phone was ringing. I took the liberty and picked it up. The dame said she's from the New Brunswick Psychiatric Hospital. Says its impermative. Er..imperative. Somethin like that." Lowering his ear of corn, and mumbling an embarrassed 'Thanks', Mort did a jog into the living room.  
  
Brushing some wood shavings from his beloved couch, he tossed the ear of corn and shoved the receiver up to his ear.  
  
"Yeah?" Clearing his throat. "Hello. That's me, Mort Rainey."  
  
"Ah yes. Mr. Rainey." Replied the breathy female voice on the other end.  
  
"This is Penelope Reid, from the Hospital. You spoke briefly with a Dr. Reid yesterday. Correct?"  
  
"Yes." He squinted in thought, noting mentally the last name of Reid being the same.  
  
"We would like you to return. After acquiring some background info on you- "  
  
There was a brief pause and Mort's breath caught in his throat in worry.  
  
"Dr. Reid finds it in your best interest if you be evaluated again, enrolled as a patient for further observation. "Penny was timid on the other line, unsure if she was handling this conversation correctly.  
  
However on the other end Mort was hopeful and uneasy at the same time. No doubt the accusations of him being under suspicion by the police of Tashmore Lake had been some of that acquired information.  
  
(But I'm innocent. No crime. No proof.)  
  
He sighed and nodded to himself.  
  
"Alright then. How do we do this?" Was asked hesitantly, turning his back to the staring repairman.  
  
"Simple. You come in tomorrow morning whenever your ready and I'll take you through the steps. Personally." Penny Reid dropped her superior tone and chuckled lightly.  
  
"You won't be alone in this Mr. Rainey. You don't plan on skipping town or anything do you?"" She asked, trying to keep the mood as conversational and cheerful as one possibly can.  
  
//This piss-ant won't leave as long as they've got corn over at there hospital.//  
  
"No..No nothings going to stop me from being there tomorrow morning. Promise."  
  
// Same here, Pilgrim. Same Here.//  
  
**************************************  
  
YAY.  
  
I don't know about you but there is going to be some totally Shooter revenge action and that gets me all giddy inside!  
  
Expect our favorite nurse Penny to show and stir things up too!  
  
Now be good readers and review.  
  
My Evil Mort Muse gets all pissy when you don't review, now Scoot! 


	3. strictly procedure

Yay I have a review!  
  
It's not much but its still motivation, so much so that I conjured up another chappie.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
*******************************************************  
  
Mort had driven the thirty miles up to the New Brunswick Psychiatric Hospital without so much as a snort from Shooter.  
  
(Progress already.)  
  
He held his laptop messenger bag in tow, and a burlap sack filled with the necessities, THE robe, an ear corn, a few mixed matched clothes, and a screwdriver which inexplicably had shown up there.  
  
Now standing in the reception lobby of the hospital, Morton couldn't help but be a little let down that this hospital wasn't the white washed and metallic prison he had imagined, but rather a dark, cherry oak and inviting compound with assorted bits of leather furniture that made it look like it was some rich man's study.  
  
He was hoping for some good terror material for his next story, but he couldn't fathom any better way to describe his current surroundings then simply 'comfortable'. Hell, it looked a lot better then his cabin when it came to the interior decorating.  
  
(Amy tried to 'girl' up the cabin, but the only remotely good upgrade I liked was that secret window. It did provide the inspiration for the short story that put me on the literary map.)  
  
The revolving door behind him bustled with people twirling in and twirling out. So much so that Mort felt in the way and quickly strolled up to the front counter in a very Raoul Duke fashion trying to avoid the people moving so quickly through the lobby.  
  
"I'm Morton Rainey. Uhm. You wouldn't happen to be Penelope Reid would you?" He said tucking his unruly hair behind his ears and smiling hesitantly at the overweight, beach blonde, sixty year old behind the counter.  
  
(God, please not let that be her. I pray to the gods that not be her! Gah!..Look at that mole...)  
  
"No sweetie, I'm Carla!" Laughing or rather cackling, the woman found something very humorous about that comment, though Mort was too disgusted staring at her jiggling flesh to join in the laughter.  
  
Sighing deeply, Carla's eyes scanned over Mort's braces then back to her bulky computer screen where she typed in his name, waited, clicked again then ripped the piece of paper coming out of the printer. She handed it to him and sighed again.  
  
"Penny will be here in a moment, doll face. Sit right over there." With a pink manicured finger, Carla pointed to the plush leather couch to his left.  
  
Nodding quickly, he made a B-line for the couch and plopped him and his belongings on it.  
  
Looking over the piece of paper, it all looked like a bunch of closely crowded together numbers that seemed to be some sort of code. Looking next to his name on the form, it was evident he was just a number to these people. 9321178.  
  
(A tagged cow to the mental slaughter.)  
  
(A numbered Jew to the death camp.)  
  
(A..)  
  
Deep into the metaphors for himself, he realized a white, cottony mass was right in his plane of view. Trailing his eyes up, he met two more wide eyes that were staring at his belongings.  
  
Penny smoothed out the front of her white nurse's uniform and picked up Mort's things without giving him so much as a word or blink to acknowledge his presence. Finding all of this odd, he cleared his throat and stood up, watching this woman gather his burlap sack.  
  
Snatching it like a beast would snatch a bloody rabbit, he held it up to himself, his eyes wide and blinking.  
  
It was evident he was confused and Penny's arched eyebrow at him faltered, replacing her questionable expression with a smiled instead.  
  
"I said my name is Penny Reid. Remember we spoke on the phone? I was just trying to help you with your things, but if you like, you can carry them over to the X-ray machine yourself." Blowing a curl out of her face, she waited patiently.  
  
"Penny? X-ray machine?" He mumbled, acting completely beside himself.  
  
Laughing, she nodded and turned her back to him to point up ahead.  
  
"Don't worry, its strictly procedure."  
  
As her back was to him, Morton dove his hand into the burlap sack, grabbed the ear of corn and screwdriver and shoved them into his laptop bag, which he casually held beside him as she turned back around to him again.  
  
"Okay then. Here." Tossing Penny his now lightened burlap sack, she pointed to his laptop's bag suspiciously.  
  
"Oh its just my laptop. Only stuff in there that an x-ray couldn't see anyway." Smiling, and showing off his dazzling braces, she laughed once and nodded. Like hell he was going to get caught with corn and a screwdriver. They would lock him up in a second.  
  
(Good. She trusts me.)  
  
"This way Morton." She called out, already walking in the direction of some corridor that had large black prison bars at the end of it.  
  
He followed along tentatively, trying to vie for some attention from her. He felt she wasn't all there when they spoke. It all felt so impersonal, but he couldn't blame her.  
  
(One has to detach themselves from such a line of work as this. Working with nutcases everyday must be difficult.)  
  
They arrived at the bars, which held the X-ray machine behind them, and Penny wrapped a hand around one of the bars, turning to Mort.  
  
"Don't let these bars scare you. Its only-"  
  
"Procedure?" Mort chimed in and they both laughed as Penny pulled out a small credit card like square.  
  
"Exactly." She said sticking in the glossy card in its appropriate slot. A loud buzz was heard and the bars opened automatically. Taking her cue, Penny waltzed in and waved at the black male manning the machine as he sat at a stool.  
  
"That's Charlie." The young nurse stated with a smirk as she placed Mort's bag on the ramp of the machine. "He's the first and last person you'll see before leaving, so mind you that you remember his name. He hates it when you forget his name."  
  
Penny and Charlie shared a chuckle and both looked over to the timid Mort who just stared at Penny as she smiled. For some reason Mort took a liking to her smile as it was soothing in such an odd situation as this.  
  
It took only a few moments for his bag to clear through the machine. Penny pulled it out and held it up for Morton at the end of the ramp.  
  
"Easy as pie." He said, walking over and taking the back from her, gently this time. His fingers grazed hers for a moment as he lifted the bag from her grasp and Mort reveled in this momentary contact.  
  
"Your papers, Morton?"  
  
"Oh yeah. Here. And please call me Mort?"  
  
"Of course, Mort. Hey, can I call ya Morty?"  
  
"..uhm. Sure?"  
  
"I was only kidding."  
  
Insert Mort and Penny laughing here as they continued walking down a corridor. Penny stopped abruptly and used her key card once again to open a door to Mort's in-patient room.  
  
"Ok, this is where you'll be staying tonight. Tomorrow may be different. You may be home tomorrow! But you'll be meeting with Daddy today to suss all that out."  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"Dr. Reid! Yeah, I meant Dr. Reid. He's my father by the way, Daddy isn't a kinky pet name or anything."  
  
Penelope paused realizing how much of an idiot she was making herself out to be in front of this rather hot guy who also happened to be a patient.  
  
Mort only smiled at her display of stupidity turned cuteness.  
  
"Listen, Dr.Reid will be ready to meet with you this afternoon. So make your self-comfortable and if you need anything page me. All the information you need is over by the phone. So. Questions?"  
  
Mort had already entered the run of the mill room, yet was staring out the window, which beheld a beautiful mountainous view. He was transfixed yet tore his eyes away from the window to face Penny once again.  
  
"Not a one. Thanks Penny, for easing me into all this. It wasn't as painful as I had imagined."  
  
Behind Penny in the hallway a shriek and un human like snarling was heard echoing up the corridor. Looking down at her beeping pager, Penny's face went blank with some kind of unknowing fear.  
  
"Shell shock." She muttered and looked behind her for a second to survey the goings on in the hall.  
  
"I gotta jet. I'll see you later though." Penny's tone was finally on Mort's level when she spoke. Obviously rattled to be dealing with a reckless patient, she waved and closed Mort's door.  
  
It wasn't until that same beeping had announced that Penny had locked him in his room that he realized that he was in an actual mental hospital.  
  
Locked in a room with Shooter.  
  
An ear of corn.  
  
And a screwdriver.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Review my pretties!!  
  
*rapes Mort plushie*  
  
Dun Dun Dun Dun!  
  
Tune in and find out what happens on the next episode of "Scribbled in Blood"! 


	4. shooterbad pennypretty

It only takes approximately 13 minutes to get bored in the confines of ones patient room.  
  
Mort knows this for he timed it on his watch.  
  
"I could take a nap..." He questioned out loud and looked at the bed on which he was lounging. Quickly he decided he couldn't do that such thing because it was all too unfamiliar. At home he could conk out in a second on his well-indented couch.  
  
But here it was different.  
  
Mort tried to imagine all the schitzo's and lunatics that had once occupied his bed. Wrinkling his nose at the thought, he settled for sitting in the desk chair and pulled out his trusty laptop instead.  
  
As he eased the laptop from its case, he felt the handle of the screwdriver with his knuckle and shuddered.  
  
It only took that one trigger to awaken the killer within him, only this time it wasn't an echo in his brain.  
  
Mort didn't hear the squeak of the spring bed, but he knew who was there. He knew Shooter was sitting there with his humble yet holier then though grin, staring a hole into his shoulder.  
  
"Well now, look what you've gotten yourself into now, boy." Shooter whispered sadistically.  
  
Mort dared not look behind him nor allow himself to be frightened by a figment of his own imagination.  
  
"What I've gotten me into, and hopefully you out of is my life. Fuck off. Things are better when you're not around." Standing up swiftly, Mort caused his chair to screech and fall with a clatter to the ground.  
  
He was now face to face with the man who ruined his life. Nose to nose with the part of himself he loathed more then anyone could comprehend.  
  
"Your story has been revised, published, and shelved, you ignorant shithead. Yet your still here, riding my ass. I don't get it. Amy's gone. People are dead and your still here."  
  
"And I will be until I am satisfied with another story. Courtesy of you, Mr. Rainey."  
  
"Whoa, whoa, wait. There is no other story, Shoo-"Mort refused to use that name.  
  
(This is too fucked up. I will not carry out a conversation with myself.) "Not yet there ain't. But your going to write it, your going to write it real nice and then you know what you're going to do? You're going to put both our names on it. Tis about time I got some credit acknowledged on my time I've clocked in on your life, Mr. Rainey."  
  
BUZZ.  
  
The large mahogany door swung open and in popped Penny's head, beaming a large smile. The alarm on Mort's face didn't faze her much, and she entered the room fully, her brunette curls bouncing along as she did.  
  
"Mort? Hey, the doc's in. Are you-"Pausing, she brought a hand up to her mouth and wrinkled her forehead in worry as she saw Morton's fast breathing and fear stricken features.  
  
"Are you okay? What's wrong?" She inquired as she walked up to him and put a slender hand on his shoulder.  
  
It took a second for Mort to process who the female standing in close proximity was, but he could care less for Shooter was gone the second she had walked in.  
  
"Sorry. I'm just a little jumpy. The buzz, it er.." Uttering a laugh, Mort felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "It scared me."  
  
All expressions in the room softened and the due breathed a deep sigh, a sort of silent understanding between the two.  
  
Running her hand up and down Mort's arm in comfort, she smirked.  
  
"No biggie. It's an awful cacophony, but it keeps us on our toes. Hopefully you won't be here long enough to get used to it."  
  
Taken aback by the comment and sudden touching, Mort just opened his mouth but settled on nodding so not to cause another verbal fuck up on his part.  
  
"Riight. Anyhoo, its this way. The doctor will see you now."  
  
And they set off. With another buzz of the door, Mort's room was locked and following close beside his nurse, he set off down the corridor with Penny, hoping that Shooter wouldn't have any other cameos that day.  
  
"How long have you worked here?" Mort finally broke the timed 7-minute silence, curiously eyeing another patient walking by with an IV.  
  
"I live here. " The comment caught him by surprise and Mort's eyes darted around the hallway tensely, not wanting to come across as excited in anyway.  
  
(Who the hell gets giddy over seeing a psychiatrist?..Or possibly it's the company of my nurse?)  
  
The notion made him smile. "Really?" He asked. "What's that like?"  
  
"Well, its interesting slash scary. You see Pops, Dr. Reid, he is on the board here at the hospital meaning he would have basically lived here anyway if he expected to keep this place up and running."  
  
Penny and Mort shared a smile, and turned another corner.  
  
They both averted their gaze from a woman on the floor whispering into a corner and being jabbed in the arm with a sedative.  
  
Not the best place to hold a conversation, but neither of the duo was complaining.  
  
"Anyway." She continued. "After my sister was born, they made a decision to move the family here to raise us. That's all seven of us. Lets just say, since I was old enough to know my colors I've been dishing out the pills around here."  
  
( ...Wow. A woman raised in a mental hospital as a non-patient. That would make a great character..)  
  
Some where in the depths of Mort's demented brain, Shooter was laughing again in triumph.  
  
"That makes you the single most fascinating person I've ever met." Mort said half in jest half in complete seriousness.  
  
"You must not know that many people." She leaned in and whispered.  
  
Mort had followed Penny as if in some intricate dance number and it never occurred to him that they had stopped in front of the same door he had walked through only two days previous.  
  
"Um. Mort?" She said, a high innocent ring to her voice.  
  
"Yes?" Fumbling with his hands, Mort purposely wanted to prolong entering Dr. Reid's office to continue this new intriguing conversation and keep his mind off of more pressing matters.  
  
She motioned with her finger, enticing him to lean in closer, which he gladly obliged with a sinful grin.  
  
"This is the part when you open the door and walk in, Mort." She arched her eyebrow in suspicion of his inappropriate gaze and possible motives.  
  
"Right." He mumbled turning the knob of the door and stepping through the threshold.  
  
"Good luck." Penny mumbled, mostly to herself. A part of her wished Mort would have to stay longer. Another praying for him to check out with a clean mental bill of health so her hopes of him being single would seem less sick then finding a patient attractive.  
  
*************  
  
Not the best chapter, I know. But I wanted to establish Penny finally!!  
  
So. Do you guys think I'm going along too slow? Or should I sped things up and not draw it out?  
  
I need help folks, this is when that little button comes in handy.  
  
So review and give me some help! 


	5. under more watchful eyes

Ok thanks readers! For our purposes this story does take place in Maine and as I've already established it as so.  
  
And yes! I fully plan to finish this series because it's been wickedly fun so far.  
  
Just remember to do your civic duty and review. Flame me if you will, any constructive criticism is appreciated!  
  
*****************************  
  
The Reid family has an air of superiority about them. One that makes  
someone linger on his or her every word and long to hear one last  
significant utter from his or her lips.  
  
Though the lips of Penny were what Mort's fantasies were made of, Dr.  
Reid's was quite the contrary, nonetheless Mort ended up shaking his  
head in agreement at every comment the man made.  
  
Either Dr. Reid was influential in his way of describing Mort's current  
feelings, or our favorite author was just desperate putty in his hands.  
  
We tune in now approximately 47 minutes into Morton Rainey's session:  
  
"So naturally the tension between you and Amy built with time. You  
were writing novels while she was-"  
  
"..Fucking around." The strained words escaped Mort's tightened lips  
before he could realize it and he quickly recovered as he unreclined  
from the chair and fumbled with his hands yet again.  
  
"No, no Morton its a perfectly understandable response. Relax. She was  
in fact 'fucking around' and withdrawn from your efforts to patch  
things up, as you've stated."  
  
Both the men rubbed their chins in unison and there was an awkward  
silence that Mort couldn't help but break.  
  
"It, well you see, it did something to me. Especially when I saw them  
together that first time." Shifting uncomfortably, he looked behind him  
to the door hoping to see the face of salvation, the face of Penny pop  
in once again. To no avail she didn't, and he turned around to face the  
plump doctor.  
  
"Explain. Tell me how you felt, those emotions. That rage you must  
have felt."  
  
"Rage! Exactly." Gesturing as if balling up something in mid air, Mort  
leaned forward, his elbows in the desk and apparently trying to  
articulate what he couldn't explain in words.  
  
"No doubt I was pissed. Hell, I was more then pissed. But I've always  
been passive aggressive you see. It- the rage, you are following along  
right Doc?- it formed an entity within me. A completely different form  
with opinions and and stories, a person, if you will." His glasses had  
slipped to the tip of his nose, and Dr. Reid pushed them back up in the  
bridge of his nose with some force indicating his lack of enjoyment of  
their closeness.  
  
"Does this person have a name?" The doctor inquired slyly, knowing his  
diagnoses for Morton already being one of many but more dominantly  
Multiple Personality Disorder. He wanted Mort to delve further so to  
tell the extremity of his case.  
  
// Go ahead, sissy-boy. Tell him and watch how fast they pump you with  
sedatives and tie you to a bed.//  
  
Mort's brow was already brimming with sweat from the stress of this  
whole situation.  
  
Never had he told another person about Shooter as being a part of him.  
Never had he even accepted it, but whether he was ready to or not,  
there was no choice in the matter if he expected to get help.  
  
"Shooter. John Shooter." He said, surprising himself when he spoke the  
name with a Southern twang.  
  
"So you're saying that John is the equivalent to the other you. The  
one that isn't afraid of confrontation." Dr. Reid inferred while  
pressing a button on his intercom.  
  
"Yes and no. We're like polar opposites for Christ's sake."  
  
At that moment from each of the three doors in the office came a nurse.  
Two large males, and one petite female recognizable by her brunette  
tresses. All of them plastered expressionless and distant from what  
they were expected to do.  
  
Penny pushed a metallic cart with syringes and other drugs next to  
Mort's chair and he cracked his jaw unknowingly of what was going on.  
  
"What's all this?" He asked, wishing now that Dr. Reid's office did  
have a window, for he would jump right up and over the desk to crash  
out of it to the summit below.  
  
Anything to escape his fear of what they were about to do to him.  
  
"I find it that in order to properly conduct the rest of our sessions,  
that you should be put in an observational cell. Its just standard, I  
mean I can't have all my patients visit me in my office. Note all the  
sharp objects."  
  
"Like hell you will! I've done nothing, I mean Shooter isn't really me  
just-just-"Turning to see Penny's eyes cast to the ground, Mort too  
looked away in shame only to see the two other nurses approaching.  
  
"I hate him. Please let me explain! Reasons why Shooter isn't me  
Chapter one:" Mort's tone was escalating in fury only making both the  
men in the white garb grasp both his arms and tug him from his chair.  
  
"Its safer this way. For you and me. Your exhibiting signs of having a  
dual personality, a Dr.Jekell and Mr. Hyde effect. I can better figure  
out how to approach this if you under more watchful eyes. Now Penelope,  
administer the tranq." Reid Senior only used Penny's real first name  
whenever he asked her to perform such duties. It was the oddest thing  
but she too partook in this unusual display of denying identity as  
well.  
  
"Yes Dr. Reid." She nodded, and pulled a syringe from its case, then  
stuck it in a vial to measure it. Though when she did, she purposely  
didn't fill it to its maximum for Penny had her own hidden agenda.  
  
Meanwhile, Mort thrashed about completely beside himself with anger.  
  
He kicked and fought but it was useless against the force of the two  
men holding him back. His wild hair clung to his face obstructing his  
view of the needle being prepped.  
  
He stared at Penny through narrowed eyes, betrayed by her willingness  
to poke him in the arm with such a drug when they had only been  
speaking about an hour previous.  
  
"This isn't going to hurt." Penny lied as she pulled a cotton swab out  
and wiped it on Mort's strained forearm as it was held there by the  
larger of the two males to his right. Then squirting the excess liquid  
from the syringe, she tapped Mort's vein and quickly injected him with  
the sedative.  
  
In the few moment's it took for the drug to fully take affect, the  
staff present in the room watched Morton Rainey's lips quivering  
'please's and 'help's while he stared longingly at Penny Reid.  
  
******************************  
  
Eep! People really love those 'From Hell' fanfics don't they?  
  
I'll tell ya what, after I'm finished with this series I'll do another 'From Hell' to satisfy certain readers out there that are nutting their pants for more Abberline.  
  
But anyhoodles, I'm pressed for time right now hence the small chapter.  
  
But we are finally leading up to some action in the next few chapters.  
  
Think: Edward Scissor Hands meets Gothika. 


End file.
